


Convergence 4/7

by Soledad



Series: Beautiful Minds [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Torchwood
Genre: F/M, Five Times, Smart Is The New Sexy, beautiful minds, icemanverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 22:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2205435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soledad/pseuds/Soledad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Toshiko Sato didn't sleep with John Watson and one time she did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Convergence 4/7

**CONVERGENCE  
by Soledad**

**PART 4 – THE SIX THATCHERS**

Sherlock tries to make up to John after the theatre disaster. He really does. He even agrees to go with John to do the Christmas shopping – which inevitably ends in another disaster.

“I can only blame myself,” John explains to Toshiko later, sitting in 221C and nursing the usual double Scotch of comfort; by now Toshiko keeps a bottle in her cupboard solely for his sake. “I mean, seriously, what was I _thinking_? How could I come up with the insane idea of dragging him to something as mundane as Christmas shopping?”

“I bet he was bored,” Toshiko comments, her eyes bright with amusement over the rim of her delicate china teacup.

John sighs. “When isn’t he bored, unless we’re chasing crazed murderers over the roofs of London? He was sniping all the time, insulting random people we bumped into… but the worst time was when we happened upon Father Christmas in one of the warehouses, surrounded by a bunch of kids who were telling him about their wishes.”  
  
“Good Lord,” Toshiko giggles because she has a vivid imagination. “That must have been a true disaster waiting to happen.”

“You tell me,” John agrees glumly. “He shouted at a Father Christmas that he was bored and wanted a nice juicy murder for Christmas – in front of all those kids and their parents. Of course, somebody called the police and we were escorted back to the flat like some petty criminals.”

Toshiko giggles some more. “I saw you. I was having tea with Mrs Hudson and that girl, the student who was waiting for you – well, for Sherlock – for an hour or so. The client who came to you because of the murder at her university.”

John nods. “Yeah, the art student stabbed by his boyfriend who then hid the knife in one of the victim’s Thatcher figures, just when they were about to go into the oven. Of course, as there were six identical figures, he had to break into the houses of the people who bought the things, so he could get the evidence and make if vanish for good.”

“Still, it was a pretty clever solution to push the knife into the clay, especially as he had to come up with it on the spot,” Toshiko says, and John nods again.

“My thoughts exactly. Of course Sherlock described it as disappointingly simple. Then the next day he kept going on about how he'd have got away with that I got fed up with him and went to the pub.”

“That was cruel,” Toshiko comments, amused. “He _needs_ his audience, you know.”

Johns shrugs. “There’s that frozen turkey in the fridge for one of his weird experiments. They seemed to go on well enough when I left.”

Toshiko giggles again and refills his glass. Then, after a moment of consideration, she pours herself a large Martini.

“All right,” she says. “Tell me more about the case. Give me all the details; especially those you won’t reveal in your blog.”

John doesn’t feel like returning to a sulking Sherlock, so he’s more than willing to do just that. After several more drinks they are both more than tipsy and start flirting like two teenagers. Another hour later they are drunk enough to go over to the next phase – but promptly fall asleep, cuddling on her sofa.

In the morning, John wakes up with a stiff back, a hangover and the mixed feeling of regret and relief. As much as he misses female company (thanks to Sherlock’s constant interference), a drunken romp in the hay is _not_ what a classy lady like Toshiko deserves. There will be other chances – or so he hopes.

She’s already gone to whatever mysterious task Mycroft might have appointed her to. But there’s a thermos of tea on the coffee table, with a couple of biscuits, and a post-to note encouraging John to use the shower.

He accepts the offer at the odd chance that Sherlock would have used up all the hot water upstairs, as always.


End file.
